First Love Never Die
by Ski October
Summary: After two years of waiting for Jake to acknowledge the change between them, Sam wonders if it may be time to let go. A school assignment introduces her to Connor Atkins, a sweet basketball player, but when Jake comes home for the summer the weather isn't the only thing to heat up. Jen/Ryan, Sam/OC/Jake. Title from "First Love Never Die" by Soko.
1. introduction

_Hi there! Though I'm new to writing for _Phantom Stallion_ I'm certainly not new to the fandom. I've been reading these books since I was in elementary school and now I'm a college freshman. These books are part of the foundation of my life. Even though there are a few inconsistencies in Farley's story line(such as the name of the original Kenworthy ranch and the mysterious Ely brother, Seth, who seemed to exist only in one book before vanishing altogether), I adore these books and several times I've had ideas for stories. This is the first time I've actually written one and posted it. Also, my Beta lives on the other side of the world and isn't online so what you're about to read is only edited by me. I apologize for that. Hopefully you'll enjoy reading anyway!_

**DISCLAIMER: **_I own nothing but Connor and Brent, neither of whom are in this chapter.**  
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The early summer morning is warm and still as Samantha Forster steps out onto the front porch. In her hands are a plate of microwave pancakes – Gram would die seeing them – and a powder blue pottery mug of pale coffee. Though she never used to drink it much, Sam has come to rely on the energy the beverage provides. Senior year of high school is no joke, especially when you are the editor of the school newspaper.

The horses mill around quietly in the ten acre pasture, nothing more than a large mass of horse flesh in the dim morning light. Blaze trots over from the bunkhouse to stare hopefully at her plate, and since she is in a good mood Sam indulges him with a pancake. Blaze whines appreciatively and gulps it down, then curls up at her feet. Sam is up earlier than usual, so she has the time to dawdle a bit before getting ready for school. She sees Dallas standing on the porch of the bunkhouse and waves. Giving Blaze her last pancake, she downs her coffee and goes back inside.

At six o'clock in the morning, Gram is already dressed and in the kitchen, tending to the biscuit dough on the counter. Sam pecks her on the cheek, darting up the stairs before Gram can scold her about the cheap breakfast she'd had. She ducks into the bathroom to brush her teeth and wash her face. In her bedroom, she pulls on a pair of medium jeans – the skinny kind Sam guiltily adores – and a soft, worn white Beatles tee she'd nicked from Brynna. The day promises to heat up quickly, so Sam throws her now-long hair into a messy ponytail and grabs a pair of old sunglasses Gram had passed off to her. The Jackie O. style of them brings a grin to her face. By the time she slides her feet into a pair of comfy flip-flops and returns to the kitchen, Cody is awake and standing next to Gram as she cooks.

"Hey, little man!" Sam greets, ruffling his messy brown hair. Even at just two, he looks a lot like Dad. With his white smile and sweet brown eyes, Sam has no trouble picturing the string of broken hearts he'll someday leave in his wake.

"Samma," he mumbles, smiling but not quite awake yet. He holds his arms out and Sam dutifully lifts him up in hers. She presses a loud, sloppy kiss to his cheek, delighting in his giggle. "You go school?"

"Unfortunately," she replies, bouncing him slightly. "I'd rather stay and play with you."

"Play," Cody agrees. He nods his little head sagely, as though this is the wisest course of action. When Gram sets his breakfast plate on the table, Sam places him in the chair holding his booster seat.

"Sorry, kiddo." Sam smiles ruefully. "School first. We'll play when I get home, if you're awake." Sam usually gets home around three, which is right about the time Cody goes down for a nap. To keep Gram from fussing about the pancakes, Sam plucks a biscuit from the pan and slathers the warm bread with Brynna's homemade apple butter. She doesn't protest, either, when Gram hands her a glass of milk. "Your biscuits get better every time you make them."

"Don't think you can sweet-talk me into forgetting about those pancakes, missy." Gram levels her with a glare of mock-offense. Then she smiles. "And thank you. Maybe this weekend, I'll show you how to make them."

"Sounds like a plan." Sam checks the time on her Blackberry, an early graduation present from Dad and Brynna. Sam isn't allowed to go crazy with phone calls and text messages, but it's nice to always have a way to get a hold of someone. Just now it's six-thirty. If she leaves now, she can make it to school just after seven. Plenty of time before the eight o'clock classes. "See you guys later."

Speaking of graduation presents, so far Aunt Sue's is the coolest. Back during spring break, Sam had flown out to San Francisco to visit with her mother's sister for the week. They spent the next seven days gallivanting around the hilly city, hitting up shops, restaurants, and beaches. Sam had even spent a day with Pam, her best friend from the city. At the end of the week, Aunt Sue had surprised Sam by giving her her old car. The 2004 Lacrosse was used, sure, but it was Sam's first car and it was perfect. Dad had flown out to the city so that he could act as a navigator while Sam drove home in her new car. Sam still liked to joke about her family's taste for Buicks.

The Lacrosse is currently parked next to Gram's own Buick, a yellow monstrosity Sam has ridden in more times than she can count. Compared to it, Sam's Lacrosse looks sleekly black in the sunlight. Sam revs the engine and, as she crosses the bridge, tunes the radio to an oldies station. Singing along to Diana Ross and the Supremes, she stops off at Diamond K to pick up her best friend.

Despite having recently turned eighteen, Jennifer Kenworthy is as eccentric as ever. To her friend's credit, Jen has toned down the craziness of her wardrobe some. Some, but not much. While she usually has only one stand-out item, Jen makes sure that "quality" makes up for the lack of quantity. As she comes jogging out of the house, her white blonde hair free of its plaits for once, Sam immediately notices the print of black cats on her sleeveless white blouse. Paired with peg-legged jeans and a pair of oxfords that seem granny-ish, Sam decides it could be worse. At least there are no fuzzy Easter eggs.

Jen slides into the passenger seat, dumping her backpack into the floor at her feet. "Morning. Thanks for the ride."

"Sure thing." Sam turns the volume down on the radio as they pull back out onto the road. "Nice outfit."

Jen beams. "Ryan got the blouse for me, actually. Which is sweet, considering how my off-kilter sense of style must give his sophisticated British brain a hemorrhage."

"The mark of a true boyfriend," Sam intones jokingly. Jen and Ryan have been officially dating for the past year and so far things are going well. Though Jen has cut back on the girlish gushing, Sam knows her excitement hasn't dimmed. "How did your date go last night?"

Jen sighs dreamily and Sam wonders if she shouldn't have asked. "He was going to take me to see a movie, you know, _Quantum of Solace_?"

Sam laughs. "Of course he'd take you to see James Bond."

"Shush. Anyway, he misplaced his wallet and got adorably frustrated trying to find it. So he gave that up and saddled Champ, then told me to hold the reins and wait. When he came back he had this picnic basket and a blanket. He had me mount up and I held it all while he rode behind me. I kid you not, Sam, we had a picnic dinner and watched the sun set over the Calicos. How disgustingly romantic is that?"

"Extremely," Sam agrees, though she's smiling.

Jen sighs again. "It was perfect, though. He's perfect. Speaking of, when are _you _going to get a boyfriend?"

Sam groans. Jen has been on Sam's case about her lack of romance since last Christmas, when Sam's other best friend, Jake Ely, came home from college to visit. Thinking of Jake always makes Sam's chest tighten. At the bonfire two years ago, when Cody had just been born, Jake had reached over and taken Sam's hand. Uncertain of what it meant, but eager to find out, she went along. Jake has been a part of her life for as long as Sam can remember, and nearly everything she's learned about horses and how to treat them comes from him. For a time, there had been something more between them than the usual bickering camaraderie and Sam was – still is – sure Jake felt it, too. Then Jake left for college and took that something more with him. Trouble was, the next time Jake was in Nevada he'd left that something more behind.

"Stop brooding, it won't get you out of answering my question."

Frowning, Sam offers a shrug. "I don't know, Jen. Even if I had one, I wouldn't have time for him. Between stepping up more on the ranch, getting ready for prom, being the editor for the paper, preparing for finals, not to mention graduation and college plans… The poor boy would probably sue me for neglect."

"While I understand that you really are working hard, those all sound like excuses," Jen remarks, calling Sam out.

Sam doesn't dignify this with a reply, choosing instead to stare out the windshield as they drive through Darton toward the school. Jen is right, though, and they both know it.

"Admit it," Jen says, gentler. "You're waiting for Jake."

And there it is. Sam's silence is all the answer Jen needs. The ache in her chest makes Sam want to drive back home and crawl into bed. Last Christmas, when Jake was home, there was tension between the two of them. While it was stressful, it wasn't entirely unpleasant and Sam had hoped it meant Jake was going to do or say something to acknowledge whatever it was that had changed between them. Only he didn't. He treated her as he always had – like a best friend and sibling. They teased and fought with each other, but to Sam it seemed lacking, false. Jake was trying to pretend nothing had happened, but going back was impossible. When he returned to school, Sam was left emptier than before, and heartbroken.

Sam pulls into the parking lot with twenty minutes to spare. She picks a spot close enough to the main doors and cuts the engine. She and Jen sit in silence, unaware of the few students who send waves their way. "What else am I supposed to do? I've been waiting for Jake all my life, in different ways for different reasons, and my patience almost always pays off. He's Jake, so he's being stubborn about this, that's all."

Jen nods, but doesn't seem convinced. "That's true, about the stubbornness and being patient, but maybe this time he isn't going to come around."

Though Sam wants to argue that _yes, of course he will_, something deep inside tells her that Jen, in all likelihood, is correct. Jake may be stubborn, but when it comes to something he truly wants he isn't one to dally. Two years of dallying should tell Sam all she needs to know, but she can't give up just yet. She has to wait just a little longer. While her faith in Jake has been tested on many occasions, it has never wavered.

Jen, now a master of reading Sam's facial expressions and body language (and quite possibly her mind), rolls her eyes. "Clearly you're going to be as stubborn about this as he is, but please, Sam, don't make yourself miserable because of him. It seems to me that Jake has moved on. Maybe you should do the same."

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	2. maybe just a little

_Back again, mates! Thanks for the reviews I got, they were more than I'd expected. This fandom is very small and I didn't foresee much attention. Still, you guys rock! So, I treat you to the second chapter! This one was actually beta'd by the lovely _Blue-Winter-Angel _- also known as Elise; have a look at her work sometime! - so there really shouldn't be any mistakes. You also get to meet Connor Atkins, who is loads of fun to write. I can't wait for you guys to get to know him better._

_Anyway, I'll shut up now and let you get on with the reading. Enjoy!_

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School is difficult to concentrate on after her talk with Jen that morning. All through calculus and English literature, Sam's mind can't pull away from her longing for Jake and Jen's condemning words. In both economics and environmental science, Sam's teachers call her out on her absentmindedness. By the time she trudges into fourth-year journalism, she is exhausted. While Mr. Blair notices her long face and refrains from shouting, he still has bad news for her. Well, not bad so much as wearying.

"Forster, you're on the Atkins article."

Dropping her bag on the floor and falling into her chair, she looks at Mr. Blair with tired eyes. "Why? Katie has the article this month."

"Mitchell's out sick with a fever," he replies. "Won't be back 'til after the deadline in two weeks. Lucky for you, she's got some of it started already." He taps a blue three-ring binder on his desk. Sam goes over to pick it up and written across the front in silver Sharpie is:

_Atkins, Connor. Student of the Month: May._

Sighing, she tucks the binder under her arm and returns to her desk. Though the article isn't especially difficult, it involves a lot of one-on-one interviewing and photography. The idea to have a student of the month article had been Sam's last year, though now she's beginning to regret it. It's already the last week of April; if Sam wants to have the article finished in time to run, she'll have to drop her other stories or pass them on to someone else.

"Hey, Toby, can you cover the track-and-field jamboree this weekend?" she asks, leaning back to peer down the aisle at him.

Toby nods his shaggy blond head, smiling. "Sure thing, boss."

Sam rolls her eyes at the moniker, but Toby's easy demeanor has lifted her dark mood some. Hailing from L.A., Toby is more surfer than cowboy, but he's so likeable no one bothers him much about it. That taken care of, she passes off other stories: the Methodist Women's Club bake sale to Bethany Lewis, prom updates to Cathy Weatherly, reminders about senior rec and graduation to Nicolas Santiago. Her pieces about upcoming finals and the senior class field trip to Disneyland will have to wait until after she runs Atkins' story. The rearranging of her workload and affected schedule take up most of the forty-five minute class, so Sam spends the remainder of it skimming through Katie's notes.

There isn't much so far. Katie hasn't had a chance to meet up with Atkins, so most of the notes are background information. His position as co-captain of the men's basketball team, being crowned king at last year's junior prom, his work with the fire department as a volunteer. Interesting things for an article, but Sam will need a lot more to go on. Using her computer, she logs on to the school's website to view the schedules of the various sports teams. Though basketball season is long over, the team still has practice once a week to keep their skills sharp. Noting that they will be using the gym today right after school, Sam shoots a quick text to Jen.

_I have to talk to Connor Atkins after school for a minute. If you want to hitch a ride with me, wait by my car._

Though Jen refuses to text during class, she isn't above reading the messages Sam sends her. Besides, there are two minutes left on the clock. Sam powers down her computer and sticks the binder in her school bag. As soon as the bell rings, she's out the door and on her way to the gymnasium. Instead of waiting by the Lacrosse, Jen meets Sam halfway through the courtyard, easily falling into step beside her.

"Why do you have to talk to the co-captain of the basketball team?" she asks, pushing her glasses back up on her nose.

"He's the student of the month for May and Katie Mitchell's out sick. As editor, I get to stand in. I spent almost the entire period reassigning all my stories to other people."

"Yikes." Jen winces. "Did Katie at least have some notes taken down?"

Sam nods. "A few things, but it's mostly common knowledge. To get the information I need I have to set up an interview, which is what I'm on my way to do now."

They lapse into silence as the gym approaches and even from outside Sam can hear the squeak of rubber soles and the slamming of basketballs on the wooden floors. Stepping into the air-conditioning, Sam pauses a moment to watch the organized chaos of a mock game and remembers her time spent on the girls' team in San Francisco. She does miss playing, and briefly wonders why she never tried out here at Darton. Then she spots Coach Harris on the other side of the gym, making hand signals and occasionally shouting at the players.

Sam and Jen pick their way around the edges of the court, keeping watchful eyes on the ball and the tall boys throwing it around. Having covered a few basketball games in her time at Darton, Sam is familiar with Coach Harris, and vice versa. He welcomes her with a grin.

"Whatchya got, Forster?"

"I need to borrow Atkins, just for a second." Sam pulls out her notepad and a pen, preparing to jot down the information Atkins will need to give her. "Gotta schedule an interview."

Coach Harris' eyebrows quirk. "That so? What for?"

"He's student of the month for May. I have to get started writing now if I want to make the deadline on time."

Nodding, Coach Harris fixes his eyes on the team. "ATKINS."

Startled by the tremendous shout, Sam jumps and Jen skitters sideways in a mockery of her palomino mare, Silk Stockings. The entire team stops immediately and Atkins comes jogging over to the sideline. Clearly it's a shirts-skins game, because Connor Atkins' broad shoulders and toned torso are proudly on display, brown skin glistening from exertion. Sam makes a valiant effort to keep her eyes on his face, which isn't hard at all considering Connor is beyond gorgeous. Dark brown hair, a bit on the long side, is plastered to his angular face and falls into lovely dark green eyes that are framed by long, thick lashes. His nose is straight and regal, his lips full and sensual. Sam hasn't been so star-struck by a boy since… well, since Jake.

When Sam is snapped into reality by Connor's voice, it takes physical effort not to groan. It's a smooth, clear tenor that promises beautiful days and wild nights. It's a voice Sam could listen to for ages.

"What's up, Coach?" Though he speaks directly to Coach Harris, Connor's eyes are on Sam.

"Forster here wants to set up an interview." Coach Harris jerks his head toward Sam, who is irrationally wishing she'd done something nicer with her hair that morning. "Says you're student of the month."

"I thought A.J. Cooley was student of the month?" Connor asks, referring to the honors scholar and forward of the men's soccer team.

"You're our pick for May," Sam says, inwardly applauding the steadiness of her voice and the timeliness of her reply. "I just need to know when we can do an interview."

Connor's brow furrows in a torturously adorable manner as he thinks about his answer. "Well, I'm not busy Saturday afternoon. Maybe we could meet somewhere?"

Sam jots down the day. "Maybe that little food truck in the mall parking lot. _Manny's_."

"Yeah, yeah, say around two? Most of the lunch crowd should be gone by then."

Sam nods, taking down all the information. _Manny's at two o'clock this Saturday. Got it._ "Can I get your number? Our ranch gets pretty busy and I'd like to be able to call or text if we need to reschedule."

"Sure thing," he says, rattling off the digits. _890-7263. Perfect._ "Can I get _your _number? You know, just in case?"

Sam smiles suspiciously, aware that Connor is blatantly flirting with her now. Though she isn't sure she's interested, her ego is flattered. "Sure, why not." Realizing Connor has nothing to write her number on, she shrugs and turns his right arm over, scribbling her number on the inside of it. _691-5429. _"Try not to smear it with all your sweat."

"No promises." With a wink and a cheeky grin, he is back out on the court.

Rolling her blue eyes, Sam smiles at Coach Harris, who looks particularly amused. "Thanks, Coach. Have a nice afternoon."

The coach bids them goodbye and after a brisk walk across campus the Lacrosse comes into view, all alone in the nearly empty lot. The girls clamber inside and Sam hurries to crank up the AC. The drive through town is quiet, but Sam isn't fooled. As soon as they hit the open road, so to speak, Jen will pounce.

Jen doesn't disappoint. "So, for a girl who's not interested in having a boyfriend you sure didn't have any trouble getting a date with a hot athlete."

"Jen!"

"What? Connor Atkins is no one to turn your nose up at. Even Rachel Slocum would admit to his superior aesthetics." Jen's tone is matter-of-fact, leaving no room for disagreement.

Sam doesn't even try. How can she deny that Connor is utterly stunning? To do so would be sacrilege, and besides, Sam isn't in the business of lying. "Of course he's gorgeous. But so what? We made those plans because I have to interview him."

"Yeah, but he was totally flirting with you and you reciprocated. Gave him your number and even made a sassy remark. You were a natural." Jen's grin is positively dastardly and Sam wants no part of whatever scheme her warped, but admittedly brilliant, mind is devising.

"Say what you want," she mutters, turning on the radio. "Little Bitty Pretty One" bee-bops cheerily along from the speakers. "I'm not interested."

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Later that night, when Sam is tucked away in her bed and caught halfway between sleep and wakefulness, she replays her words to Jen in the car that afternoon. While she had been certain she'd meant them, a full belly and a drowsy mind can't now be sure. Sam is still a bit riled from all the talk of Jake and the dull ache in her chest isn't easy to ignore. Jake's presence is overwhelming as ever, even when he's hundreds of miles away and Sam worries for a second that she may suffocate. Then she remembers the way Connor winked at her and is startled by a sudden realization: not once in those five minutes did she think of Jake.

Usually Jake is always taking up some part of her mind, for one reason or another. Even when she isn't thinking about him directly, Jake is always a specter shadowing the edges of her thoughts. The entire time she was speaking – and okay, yeah, _flirting_ – with Connor, it was like she'd never heard of Jake Ely. Hadn't even known he existed. Sam isn't sure how she feels about that, but something tells her it isn't so bad. She'd rather die than admit this to Jen, however.

"Okay," she mutters. In the quiet dark of her bedroom, her best friend won't be able to hear the confession. "Maybe I'm a little interested."

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	3. what a dork

_Round three! You guys are THE BEST EVER. Your reviews have kept me smiling and writing all day. No joke, I was checking my email on the way to my Psych exam this morning - so bad, I know - and I read a review and I was squealing with joy. I LOVE YOU GUYS SO MUCH. And because I love you, I'm going to warn you that this chapter ends in a cliffie. I know. I'm despicable. But I've been up since six-thirty(it's almost midnight, now) and I'm a bit under the weather. Also, Mother and I are running errands tomorrow, so I'm not sure how much writing I'll get done. Chapter four may not come until Friday(now is also the time where I confess that I'm really bad about updating inconsistently). _

_BUT._

_There is a silver lining. If you look on my profile, you will find the links to my various social media sites. I have an account on Polyvore, a fashion-oriented community, and if you browse my collections you will see one labeled _First Love Never Die_. There are only three sets so far, but I have more planned and I'll be sure to tell you each time I make a new one. _

_Now. I'm done with the rambling. Enjoy the chapter!_

_XO._

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The late afternoon sunlight washes over Sam as she rides Tempest, who now three years old. The level expanse of War Drum Flats is blindingly white and Sam is forced to squint. Tempest, though spirited, is a good horse. Sam and Dad broke her in about a year ago and since then Sam hasn't had a problem. Tempest is cheeky, but she doesn't try all the tricks Ace is fond of pulling. Tempest is all mustang, however; her parents are Dark Sunshine and the Phantom.

Thinking of the Phantom worries Sam. She hasn't seen the kingly stallion since February and now it's spring. The time for collecting mares and fighting off other stallions is now and the Phantom is nowhere to be found. Brynna would have told Sam if something had happened, if the Phantom had been rounded up. The snow has long since melted, so the tunnel to his secret valley isn't blocked. Sam doesn't want to think the worst, but this kind of disappearance is so unlike the Phantom. What if he'd been hurt trying to protect his herd? Sam has seen the Phantom fight before on several occasions – a battle between stallions is no small thing.

Tempest snorts impatiently, demanding her rider's attention. Sam shakes off her gloomy thoughts – the Phantom isn't easily beaten. He's probably fine. Right now, Sam needs to pay attention to the mustang she has beneath her. Tempest may not be one for tricks, but she doesn't mind taking charge if Sam gets distracted.

"Hold your horses, girl," Sam quips, giggling to herself at the awful pun. She pats Tempest on the neck, noting the dark gray of her coat. Soon, Tempest will lighten to silver, and in a few years she'll be pure white. This tangible connection to the Phantom eases Sam's nerves. Sam still feels like she has to help the Phantom whenever she can, but at seventeen she's learned to curb the urge and let the Phantom do what he knows how to do. Jake would be proud, as much as he used to nag her about the issue.

Thinking of Jake surprisingly, though also not, leads her to thoughts of Connor. Though their two o'clock meeting isn't until tomorrow, she and Connor have been exchanging text messages all week. They don't really talk much about anything, but each time her phone chimes a new message, her belly flips excitedly. This both amuses and frustrates Sam, as she is still very much convinced that Jake will come around and even if he doesn't, Connor just isn't for her. Sam hasn't told Jen about the constant texting, but she's certain her best friend knows anyway. Jen is freakishly psychic that way. Sam has been worrying all week, though: do she and Connor really have a date?

A stamp of the hoof tells Sam that Tempest is done waiting around. Judging by the sun's lowered position, Sam guessed it was around four; almost time to head back to the ranch. Sam decides to make up for her lack of attention.

"Okay, girl," she murmurs, turning Tempest to face the direction of the ranch. "How about we take a real ride?"

Sam's intentions must telegraph through the reins, because as soon as she leans forward, Tempest gives a tiny rear and takes off like a bullet. White desert blurring below and an endless expanse of blue above, Sam breathes in the warm spring air and sends a quick thanks to God that she was born in such an amazing place. The wind is rushing in her ears, tugging at her t-shirt and tossing her hair about her face. No longer afraid of falling, Sam lets Tempest run full out and the sheer velocity of it is stunning. How could she ever have been afraid of flying like this?

River Bend comes into view and Sam, not wanting to come in too hot, slows Tempest to a smooth lope as they cross the bridge over the La Charla. Excited by Tempest's return, the horses in the ten acre pasture break into a run around the enclosure. The ranch yard isn't bustling, but Sam can hear noises coming from the barn. Pepper is back in Idaho for a funeral and Dallas is at a doctor's appointment for his arthritis, so that leaves Dad and Ross. Sam dismounts and leads Tempest into the barn to unsaddle her. She does find Dad and Ross, tending to a thrown shoe on Blue Wings. The blue roan peers at Sam and Tempest from over Ross's shoulder and nickers a greeting.

"Hey there," Sam chirps, more to Blue Wings than Dad and Ross. She leaves Tempest ground-tied for the moment, removes the saddle and blanket so she can groom her. Ace nickers from his stall, staring at Sam accusingly. She laughs. "I rode you yesterday. It was Tempest's turn."

"Hey, kiddo." Finished with the task at hand, Dad stands and twists his back both ways to stretch it. While Dad had taken up the use of endearments since Cody was born, he is still every inch a tough Nevada cowboy. Ross spares Sam an acknowledging glance, then leads Blue Wings back out to the ten acre pasture. "Good ride?"

Sam nods, running a curry comb over Tempest's coat until it begins to shine. "It was great. She was very well-behaved."

Dad nods. "Good. You still goin' into town tomorrow?"

Sam pauses. "Yes, sir."

"Alright, you'll want to talk to your gram. She needs a few things from the store, but if you're headin' that way it'd be easier on her if you picked them up."

"Of course," she replies. She doesn't mind helping Gram out at all. She's also relieved – she was sure Dad was going to cancel her plans for her at the last minute. "I have to meet Connor at two, and I shouldn't be more than a couple hours."

"Alright. Make sure you get your chores finished. School's important, but this ranch doesn't run itself."

"I will, definitely." She offers him a smile, hoping to remind him of his faith in her sense of responsibility. Honestly, when has she ever left her chores undone?

Her smile must do the trick, because Dad gives her one of his own. He pulls her into a one-armed hug. "Proud of you, you know. You've been workin' real hard this past year."

Sam stops grooming for a moment to lean into the embrace. While she isn't working this hard to please anyone but herself, it's nice to have her efforts praised some. "Thanks, Dad."

Dad gives her a final squeeze and steps back. "You finish up here and wash up for supper. See if Gram needs any help, while you're at it."

"Yes, sir."

Dad vanishes and Sam finishes spoiling Tempest with an extra-long brushing session. The mare lets out a deep sigh of pleasure and Sam can't hold back a laugh. Rubbing Tempest's poll, Sam leans in and whispers, "There's a good girl, Xanadu." Tempest shivers at the sound of her secret name. It's a trick Jake taught her when Blackie was born – give your foal a secret name and they'll be bound to you forever. "You like being spoiled, huh?"

Sam turns Tempest out to pasture and puts away the tack. She stops to give Ace a few minutes of attention, then heads inside to wash up. Cody is on the living room floor, playing with plastic model horses. When he hears the door open, his face splits in a toothy grin. "Samma back."

"Hey, cowboy, whatchya got there?"

"Horse," Cody replies, holding one of them up to her. It's a small black mustang, though lack of anatomy prevents Sam from discerning the gender. She smiles. "It's pretty. You ready to clean up for dinner?"

Cody nods, and puts his ponies in the plastic tub beside the couch. Brynna had wasted no time in teaching the little boy to clean up his messes. He follows Sam into the bathroom, where she helps him wash his hands. After she's done the same, they make their way into the kitchen, where Gram has set a lasagna on the stove. "Oh, Samantha, good. Set the table, dear, Brynna and Wyatt will be down in a moment."

Sam buckles Cody into his booster seat and does as Gram asks. By the time she lays out the last set of silverware, Brynna and Dad appear at the bottom of the stairs. Dinner is a pleasant affair, with quiet chatter and Cody actually eating all his food for once. For dessert, Gram slices up the butter cake Sam made the night before, another successful mark in Sam's baking venture. Sam and Brynna split the dishes while Dad bathes Cody and tucks him in for the night. They work in silence for a while, bumping along, until Brynna asks, "So, this interview with Connor. Is it some kind of date?"

Knowing that Brynna is merely curious, unlike a certain blonde she knows, Sam doesn't groan or roll her eyes. She does sigh, though. "It's not supposed to be, as much as Jen would love that. I'm not even looking for a boyfriend or anything, anyway; I've got too much on my plate. But Connor's pretty cheeky, so I'm sure he'll flirt with me."

Brynna grins. "Nothing wrong with a bit of flirting, despite what your dad thinks. While I'm proud you're so focused on your responsibilities, a little fun wouldn't hurt. We went out shopping last month for your prom dress, have you found a date?"

Sam shakes her head. "No, but I haven't been looking, either. I kind of forgot."

Brynna laughs at this. "You would forget all about a date, wouldn't you? Maybe Connor will ask you."

Sam tries to ignore the way her heart flutters at Brynna's words, and the immediate confusion that follows. Only Jake makes her feel this way – no one else is permitted. So why, then, is Connor Atkins having this effect on her? In her back pocket, Sam's Blackberry vibrates, announcing a new text message. Without having to think about it, she knows it's from Connor. She catches Brynna looking at her and, laughing, plays it off. "Yeah, maybe he will."

It's not until after Sam has showered and crawled into bed, with the clock glowing ten-thirty, that she opens Connor's text. What she reads makes a smile bloom across her face before she can stop it.

_Hail, Lady of the Flaming Hair. Very much anticipating our not-date tomorrow. Sleepeth well!_

_ Oh, my God, _she thinks sleepily, chuckling as she burrows into the blankets. _What a dork._

* * *

Sam is running late.

Her chores took longer than she had anticipated. Then, in her rush to get inside and clean up, she tripped over Blaze and fell in the dirt. Now, she is speed drying her hair while trying to pull on a pair of lightwash jean shorts at the same time. She throws on some deodorant and pulls a sheer cream blouse over her head. The print of blue birds reminds her that the shirt was a present from Jen. She gives up on her horse's main, letting it hang loose to air-dry. Flip-flops, sunnies, car keys. Check, check, check. Into her bag she puts a notebook, pen, and her voice recorder, as well as some SPF 50. She suspects they'll be outside for a while and she burns easily. She checks her wallet to make sure she's got money, then she's jogging down the stairs.

"See you all later!" she shouts, darting out the door before anyone's reply can reach her ears. She whips out her phone and shoots a text to Connor.

_So sorry, running late. Leaving now. Be there ASAP._

Sam barely has time to start the Lacrosse before his reply comes:

_No worries. Drive safe, fair lady._

Rolling her eyes, but unable to fight a smile, Sam crosses the bridge and heads toward town, jamming to Joan Jett on the way.

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"Well, look at what the cowboy dragged in," Connor drawls. He grins so brightly, Sam thinks she might have gone blind if not for her glasses. She swears his eyes twinkle through his Ray-Bans. "Took you long enough."

Sam rolls her eyes. "I have other responsibilities. Also, I'm pretty sure that's not the right expression."

Connor shrugs. "Meh. I'm just happy you're here so I can eat."

"You could've ordered your food without me." Sam sets her bag and keys on one of the handful of small aluminum tables set out in front of the food truck.

"No way, woman. My mother would kill me for such bad manners." Connor shudders for dramatic effect. "She's a stickler about that stuff."

Sam can relate. "So's my Gram. And my Dad. Pretty much my whole family. What are we eating?"

"I don't know about you, but I'm definitely feeling a Coke and one of those grilled ham-and-cheese sandwiches."

"Sounds good." Sam pulls out her wallet. "How much –"

"Oh, no you don't!" Connor interrupts. He plucks the wallet from her hands and drops it back into her bag. "Are you trying to get me grounded? I've got this."

"Connor…"

"This is not up for debate. You want a Coke and a grilled ham sandwich? No problem. You just set up your journalist effects and I'll get the sustenance." Without waiting to hear her reply – not, Sam thinks, that it would've made any difference – Connor strolls up to the food truck and places the orders.

By the time Sam has all her things set up, Connor is walking back to their table. "One grilled ham-and-cheese with a Coke." He sets her food beside her notebook and happily digs into his own sandwich. His exaggerated groan coaxes a laugh from Sam, and she doesn't miss the way his eyes brighten at the sound. Connor chases the bite with a sip of Coke, then looks at Sam expectantly. "Ready?"

"Are you?" Sam asks. With Connor's nod of consent, she clicks the button on her voice recorder to activate it. "Question number one."

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End file.
